Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 65: _ Payback Trap

"What happened?" I ask, crouching down, brushing the hair out of Bea’s face. "Talk to me. Where’s Yara?"

Her eyes go wide with fresh panic, and she grabs my shoulders. Her hands are shaking so hard I feel it all the way to my spine.

"She’s bitten," Bea says, voice breaking. "It happened earlier, when the hallway collapsed near the elevators. A zombie got her leg before we could close the door. She didn’t even scream at first, she just—she kept walking like nothing happened. But now... she’s feverish. She’s not speaking right. I think... I think she’s turning."

My heart drops.

Yara is fucking bitten because of their stupidity!

However, now is not the time to point fingers.

I close my eyes for a second, just one, to harden myself against the familiar horror that creeps into the back of my mind. Of the two girls, Yara is literally my favorite.

I press my lips together and ask, "We need to find her. Where is she?"

"I left her upstairs. In a storage room. I didn’t want to, but she told me to go. She said she didn’t want me to see... to see her change." Bea says.

"And you listened?"

"I didn’t know what to do!" Bea shouts, voice hoarse. "I’m not you, Renata! I’m not brave and cool and... whatever the hell you are. I was scared."

I blink. That stings. Mostly because it’s true. Not the cool part because I’m the exact opposite of cool unless we’re talking corpse temperature... but the brave part.

She sees me as something solid and unshakeable. It’s probably why she was acting all brave, trying to prove to herself that I am not better than her.

If only she knew.

I rest a hand on her shoulder, grounding her. "It’s okay. You did what you could. We’ll find her, alright? Together."

Bea sniffs and nods.

"But first," I say, "I need you to answer something honestly."

She blinks up at me.

"Did you lock the storage room door?"

"I think so."

"You think so?"

"I panicked!"

Great. So Yara, who is possibly half-turned, might be wandering around upstairs biting furniture and losing her mind.

I groan and pull Bea to her feet. "Come on. Let’s go save our maybe-zombie friend before she decides she’s a people-eater."

We start heading back, but my brain won’t shut up.

Yara. The most collected out of the three of us. The one who grounds Bea and snaps her out of her stupidity, the one who scolds her, the more mature one, and also the one who saved Pretty Boy by opening that door.

She’s not supposed to be bitten. Not her. Not the one who always seems to be on my side.

Bea scrambles beside me, arms wrapped around herself, and I glance at her.

She’s quiet. Too quiet. 𝑓𝓇𝘦ℯ𝘸𝘦𝑏𝓃𝑜𝘷ℯ𝑙.𝑐𝑜𝓂

"Hey, You okay?" I squint.

She nods too fast. "Yeah. Just tired."

Hmm.

We keep moving. Back up the stairs. My knees ache, but I push through, the keys jingling in my pocket. Each step makes the weight of what’s coming a little heavier.

At the top, the hallway yawns ahead of us. It’s dark and too still and could give even the toughest men the chills.

"She’s down this way," Bea says, whispering.

We pass the boot again. I resist the urge to pick it up like it’s some magic talisman that’ll fix everything.

Finally, Bea stops in front of a door.

"She’s in here."

I don’t like how she says that. Like a kid leading you into a prank, or a trap.

I narrow my eyes. "You sure?"

Bea nods.

I reach for the knob. It’s locked.

I pull out the keys and start testing them, one by one. My palms are sweaty. My instincts are screaming, but not in a language I understand.

Just static. Just wrong.

Click.

The door swings open. And I step into hell.

No, seriously. Hell smells like blood, sour sweat, and piss. My flashlight beam slices through the dark... and lands on three people with guns.

I don’t even have time to curse before a hand wraps around my wrist and yanks me inside.

The door slams shut behind me.

"Drop it," someone growls as a barrel jabs into my spine.

I freeze, axe halfway raised. My pulse kicks into overdrive.

"What the hell is going on?" I snarl, already backing up, and already calculating how many steps to the door.

My fight instinct says run. My pride says murder. Both are screaming at me.

And then I see Yara.

She’s tied to a rusted chair, her ankle swollen and bloody. Her lip is split. One eye is swelling shut. She’s breathing.

Whew!

"Renata!" she gasps. "No! Don’t, Bea, you weren’t supposed to...!"

"Shut her up," the guy closest to her says.

The woman beside him who is tall, lean, and dead-eyed doesn’t hesitate. She backhands Yara so hard her head snaps sideways.

"No!" I rush forward, but the gun at my back shoves me hard.

"Move again," the guy says, "and I swear to God, I’ll turn your brain into wall paint."

I stop. My hands slowly rise, and I glare at Bea. The bitch fucking led me into a trap. How dare she?’

She’s standing in the corner now. She is not tied up or held hostage. Just... standing.

With her eyes now wet and mouth still shuddering, she’s looking everywhere but at me.

"You little..."

"Don’t," she whispers, shaking her head like that’ll erase what she did. "They—they said they’d kill her. They said..."

"You brought me here," I hiss. "You led me into this like I’m some goddamn turkey and it’s Thanksgiving. Are you serious right now?"

"I didn’t want to! They have Yara!"

"Clearly!"

The man holding the gun steps in front of me now. His face is harsh like it was carved with a dull knife. His shirt is stained with sweat. I can smell him from two feet away.

"So You’re Renata," he spits, like my name tastes bad. "We’ve been looking for you."

"Oh? Were the fan letters not enough?"

He punches me.

The hit sends me stumbling sideways, my head ringing. My cheek throbs and blood fills my mouth. Okay. Maybe sarcasm was not the play.

"That’s for Robbie," he growls.

Oh, so they found me already; Robbie and Hugh’s crew. I bet they are motherfuckers like those two.

"Which one was Robbie?" I mumble, spitting blood. "Was he the one who tried to jam his hand down my pants up, or the one who liked hitting me just to hear me scream?"

"Shut up! Just cooperate or they’ll kill us all!" Bea cries.

"You shut up," I snap. "You don’t get to cry about this."

"Enough," the woman fires a gun, the sound booming. "You killed two of ours. And she took everything. Food. Ammo. Medicine. You think we’re just gonna let that go?"